


Fools Like Me

by tebtosca



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Angst, Bottom Jared, Brief Underage, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-24 04:48:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2568731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tebtosca/pseuds/tebtosca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen finds his way back every time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fools Like Me

**Author's Note:**

> Written for salt-burn-porn for the prompt _bad habits die hard_

Jared can be a belligerent little fucker but there is no ass in the world that feels better around Jensen's dick. 

And Jensen thinks he loves him. 

Sometimes. 

==

He’s a skinny thing, all limbs and hair and fingers tipped with charcoal from the pictures he’s always scribbling out under the oak tree behind the cafeteria. Padalecki’s just a kid really, a colt, all of fifteen if he’s a day.

Jensen knows better. He’s Pastor Ackles’ first born, captain of the baseball team, valedictorian. _Shiny,_ his Mama says, pride pulling the corners of her mouth up like tiny puppet strings.

Jared’s eyes are soft the first time, lashes wet as they flutter like spiderwebs. His voice is deep, too deep for his age, as he grunts, his fingers pressed against the tender skin of Jensen’s neck.

Jensen’s fingers slip down, curving around the round shape of Jared’s ass, dipping down to the crevice that is slick with sweat and not enough spit. He feels where they are connected, thumbing around the bright pink skin stretched helplessly around his cock. 

It’s warm, alive, a pair of too young bodies trying to understand each other but not knowing the vocabulary. 

Wet lashes blink against Jensen’s cheek. It’s gotta hurt, he thinks, as he grinds the boy deeper onto his lap.

Jared turns his head, his cherry-red mouth a breath away from Jensen’s own. Seeking comfort.

Jensen turns his cheek to Jared for the first time. 

Later that evening, Jensen dips his pork chop in his Mama’s gravy and chews. His teeth work methodically and he can feel the food fight its way down his throat. He thinks of damp skin.

“Didn’t you wash up before coming to the table?” Pastor Ackles says. His voice is gruff. He points at Jensen’s neck with his knife. “You still have dirt from practice on you.”

Jensen’s hand flies to his throat, his heart thumping a terrified beat against bone.

His fingers touch charcoal. 

It’s not the last time Jared leaves his mark on Jensen.

==

There are more boys than girls when Jensen goes away for college. He abandons the little pond and jumps right into ocean, but the hook from the big paternal fish he left behind never quite leaves its place embedded in his mind.

So yeah, there are more boys than girls, but those indiscretions are kept in the dark corners where the real Jensen thrives. Damp skin and turned cheeks and shaggy hair gripped tight in his fist so he can close his eyes and remember what it was like to be someone’s first time.

He goes back to his little town after graduation. He thought his Mama would be happy to have him back close, not five hours drive in a rusty truck away from her. But there’s something missing in her eyes, even as she strokes a hand over his cheek and shoves a plate of snickerdoodles in front of him. He thinks maybe she wants something more for him, something that the little pond can’t provide.

_Not so shiny anymore,_ he thinks, as the puppet strings snap.

He’s been back in town not more than a day before he sees Jared. 

Jared’s working at his uncle’s gas station. They’re working class, the Padaleckis, not the kind of folk that go five hours away from the mouths they need to feed. 

He looks good, better than. Even taller than he was before and Jensen has to look up at him now. And not just length-wise, but width too, his shoulders filling out the grease-stained coveralls with his name stitched into it in blue thread. 

He’s stronger now, too, as Jensen finds out when Jared lands a right hook straight to his face with enough power to knock Jensen right on his ass outside the station restroom out back.

Jensen takes a minute to shake it off, both the physical sensation of being punched, but also the shock of remembrance that the hurt expression in Jared’s eyes bring back.

It was the night before Jensen left for school and there was a desperation in their coupling that burned Jensen from the inside out. It was rough, up against the wall in the tool shed in the Padaleckis’ backyard.

Jensen had promised things that night, things that never should have left his brain, much left his mouth. Jared’s body was clenching around his dick, opening to him, accepting everything that Jensen wanted to give and then begging for more. When Jared turned his mouth to Jensen’s own, Jensen didn’t turn his cheek and instead opened himself up right back.

It’s four years later and Jensen’s sitting on his ass in the dirt, a place that he probably belongs. After a few beats, Jared smiles. It’s just a small one, his dimples just peeking out like a tease, but he holds his hand out to Jensen and helps him back to his feet.

Jensen doesn’t know who makes the first move after that, but before any words can be exchanged, they are coming together. Two heat-seeking missiles crashing into each other.

Jensen strips the coveralls off, revealing acres of sun-browned muscle. The skin’s not as new anymore, not as fresh or damp, but Jensen still knows it as surely as he knows his own face in the mirror.

He runs his fingers down the accordion of Jared’s abs and listens as Jared takes a few halting breaths. His body is shaking, tiny little movements that vibrate against Jensen’s fingertips and it slows Jensen down until his entire world narrows into this one moment.

Jensen’s bruised face is pulsing as he leans forward and touches his mouth to Jared’s mouth. They don’t kiss, not really. There is no tongue, no teeth, no licking into deep caverns like the hunger is just too much. 

Instead they just touch, lips pressed together for connection as Jensen’s hand slips into Jared’s boxer shorts and pulls out his dick. It’s heavy in Jensen’s hand, a newer weight that Jensen assesses and finds he appreciates. His hand slides up once, testing it. The drag is too dry, not enough give, so he brings the hand up to spit into it. He lets it drag against his nostrils for a second, breathes in the scent that he remembered so vividly on those nights in the dark when he couldn’t pretend anymore.

The moment is just long enough to bring a little gasp from Jared’s mouth. The air puffs against Jensen’s face, and he brings his lips back to re-connect as he takes his now-slick hand and starts stroking Jared in earnest.

The air is humid in the restroom, the old ceramic sink creaking where Jared’s ass is leaning up against it.

It doesn’t take long at all before Jared is crying out, the sound pouring against Jensen’s mouth until it’s just too much and he opens to him, tongues crashing together even as he brings his jizz-soaked hand up and feeds the salt of their coupling to the both of them like communion.

By the time Jared’s uncle gets back from his lunch break at the diner, Jensen’s halfway home. 

==

The weather is gorgeous on Jensen’s wedding day, blue and brisk without a cloud in the sky. 

His bride is beautiful and kind. Her lashes are wet, but her mascara never smears.

Jared’s in the audience with most of the town, a guest of the bride’s cousin. He sits in the pews, eyes purposefully blank and head titled slightly to the side. His face is a mask as he stares at Jensen and the woman who will at any second be his wife.

Later, in the bathroom of the reception hall, Jensen won’t know anything about the state of his wife’s mascara because he’ll be too busy concentrating on the 6’5” of wedding guest in his lap.

The slide is smooth this time, and Jensen realizes as he bottoms out and his pubes are touching skin that Jared _prepared_ for this. 

Jensen hates him then, just for a moment. Hates himself even more when he pictures Jared at home, slicking his fingers with lube, maybe two, probably three, fuck _four_ , and reaching back to open himself up. Jensen can see the vision of Jared prepping his own ass for Jensen’s cock in his head in a way that is infinitely clearer than the shape of his new wife’s smile.

Jared’s bracing his hands on the tiled wall above Jensen’s head as he rides him, beautiful body undulating in a way so much more practiced than that fumbling boy of fifteen with the charcoal fingertips.

Jensen lost that boy when he got in his rusty truck and drove five hours away. Sometimes he wonders if he ever had that boy at all.

==

It’s the day Jensen signs his divorce papers and he’s sitting outside of Jared’s house, tapping his fingers on his steering wheel. He stares at the window, sees the shapes of bodies silhouetted behind the curtain.

Jensen gets out, walks up the pathway, and knocks on the door. His hand doesn’t even shake, and he’s proud of himself for that.

The other guy answers the door. Jensen vaguely recognizes him from the big box store that just opened up on the outskirts of town. He went to it once before realizing he didn’t need a 64-pack of Coca-Cola.

“Yeah?” the guys says. His black hair is hanging in his face, all mussed. His cheekbones are high and his eyes are green, but not as green as Jensen’s.

Jensen sees Jared over the guy’s shoulder. Jared doesn’t look surprised as their eyes meet.

“Get out,” is all Jensen says. His voice is hoarse from disuse. His house is empty, shoes and purses and the mid-sized designer dog gone for good.

“Excuse me?” the guys responds, incredulously looking back at Jared, who just shrugs bronzed bare shoulders lazily.

When the door finally shuts behind the guy, Jensen leans back against it and holds up his hand in a way that allows Jared to see the white mark where his wedding band used to be.

Jared’s entire body shudders, like he was holding in a great gasp of air that had been struggling to get out. It’s probably something more than air struggling this whole time.

Jensen holds that same hand out to him, letting Jared lead him anywhere that Jared wants to go.

Jared lays himself down on his bed, sheets not yet rumpled by big box strangers who don’t deserve the gift of it. Jensen gets it now, in a way that he didn’t before, as he climbs on the bed and looks down on the vulnerable supplication of Jared’s body.

So Jensen decides to worship him; not in the way that his daddy taught him to do in Sunday school, but a way much deeper and true. Jensen’s mouth touches down, ghosting soft caresses across the planes of Jared’s belly, up the slopes of his pecs until he reaches the petal pink buds of his nipples. 

Jared’s breathing speeds up as Jensen’s tongue comes out to play, the very tip teasing the little nubs, swirling around them until they rise spit-shined in the warm light of the room. Finally, he wraps his lips around one of them, mouth suckling greedily even as his hands swipe smooth comfort down Jared’s sides.

It should be weird, this thing here, having time instead of fear. A bed with clean sheets and a down pillow instead of the smell of asphalt and the scratch of brick against their backs.

Instead, when Jensen slides into Jared, later, much later, after fingers and tongue and enough lube to make them laugh at the slippery slide, it feels like coming home.

Jared wraps his arms around Jensen’s body as Jensen moves inside of him achingly slowly. Jared holds Jensen to his body, skin to skin, chest to chest, until their heartbeats sync and Jensen forgets the fifteen years in between this moment and that first one.

“Stay,” Jared says to him, after.

==

And Jensen knows he loves him.

Now.


End file.
